


It's Been A Year

by basiltonjeans



Series: Window of Opportunity [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Best Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Gay Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, POV Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basiltonjeans/pseuds/basiltonjeans
Summary: Simon Snow meets Baz Pitch when he's eight years old, and they become the best of friends.With every year that passes, their friendship becomes more and more complicated. When Simon is eleven, he loses Baz, and is forced to pick up the pieces and move on.When Simon is old enough to truly get a grasp on the situation, he realises it's been love all along. He just hopes it's not too late.or; every year, something in Simon's life has changed. One thing always remains consistent: Baz.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow & Agatha Wellbelove, Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Window of Opportunity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629847
Comments: 15
Kudos: 154





	It's Been A Year

**Simon / Year 4 / Primary School**

“It’ll be fine, Simon,” my new mum says to me at the age of eight. She’s crouched in front of me, her kind eyes and the soft squeeze to my shoulder putting me at ease. I’ve been here before, starting fresh and thinking it will be different this time. I’m not so hopeful now.

A ripple of laughter comes from inside the classroom we’re stood outside. Through the door, I can hear the teacher calming the children with the soft tone of her voice.

“Ebb,” I say, shifting my body weight onto another leg. I’m uneasy again. “Do you think it will different this time?”

She smiles fondly. I’ve never been looked at the way that Ebb looks at me. She sees something in me that nobody else has ever found.

“Yes, honey,” she leans forward and brushes my messy curls off of my forehead. Then she whispers, “You’ve got this, Simon Snow.”

I walk into the classroom with my hand holding Ebb’s, staring with my mouth open at the many people staring right back at me. They are struck by the attendance of a new kid. Silence fills the room. And then whispers.

“Quiet, kids,” the teacher says. She’s wearing a dress with red cherries on it. “This is Simon, your new classmate.”

They don’t react, except for a small boy wearing glasses at the front who waves uncertainly.

Ebb quietly wishes me good luck when the class go back to their independent work. I almost beg her not to leave me. I watch her departing figure turn the corner. The teacher sits me next to a girl with pigtails at the back who doesn’t speak to me.

-

At lunch time that same day, I sit on a bench by myself. Nobody has made any attempt to make friends with me. Even the boy who was told to be my buddy for the day has gone off with his friends and left me.

I’m taking a bite of one of Ebb’s perfect sour cherry scones when a voice says, “What you got there?” My head snaps up, mouth full of scone and eyes wide. A boy who I’d noticed in my class stands on the other side of the bench. He has dark floppy hair that reaches his ears, wicked grey eyes and a dangerous smile.

I realise he’s asked me a question. I say, “Sour cherry scone,” with my mouth full, and it’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done. I expect him to walk away from my disgusting self but instead he laughs. It’s quick and quiet but I make him laugh, and it fills me with pride.

“I’ve never heard of that before,” he says, sliding onto the seat in front of me. I swallow the scone and look down at my lunch box.

“I have another. Do you want to try it?” I ask, offering him a small smile and gesturing to the scone sat in my container.

He shrugs his shoulders slightly, “Are you sure? It’s your lunch.”

“It’s fine,” I hold it out to him, and he takes it carefully, inspecting it with a curiosity in his dark eyes. “I have eaten enough already.”

When he takes a bite into it, I have to hide my excitement at seeing his reaction. He nods his head, chewing and humming and when he swallows it, he says, “This is great.”

“My new mum made it,” I smile proudly, showing all my teeth.

He doesn’t question what I said, just takes another bite and grins through it.

“I’m Simon Snow,” I say, although he has probably already heard all of the gossip about the new kid.

He hums, saying slowly, “Snow,” as if he’s trying it out for size. I nod my head enthusiastically. “I’m Baz.”

“Baz? I’ve never heard that name before.”

“The full name is worse,” he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly before he takes another bite out of my mum’s cherry scone.

“What is it?”

He takes a moment, holding his hand up to his mouth as he chews the scone. “Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

“I like it,” I say immediately. I would’ve liked it whatever it was.

He grins but hides it with his hand again, still eating the scone. “Why isn’t Benny with you? Isn’t he your buddy?”

“He’s not a very good buddy,” I frown, glancing over the playground. I spot Benny chasing a group of girls around with some mud on the end of a stick. The girls squeal and run in the opposite direction.

“Good you have me then,” Baz says then and I’m filled with endless joy. He takes a final bite of the scone, chewing it slowly as if to savour the taste. “You know, these really do taste amazing.”

“You could come to my house tomorrow after school,” I say. “There will be plenty of scones.”

It doesn’t take any convincing or bargaining. Baz wants to spend time with me. He says, “That sounds fun,” and wipes his crumby hands on the inside of his jumper.

-

**Simon / Year 5 / Grimm-Pitch House**

It’s been a year, and Baz is still by my side. I’m at the same school, living with the same parent and Baz is still my best friend. The best part is that it hasn’t been difficult to keep him with me – he’s wanted to be my friend. That’s the part that makes me the happiest.

I’m at a sleepover in Baz’s family house – which is more like a mansion – and I’m hiding under his bed. The first time I was invited here, I was overwhelmed by the house’s grandeur. I almost didn’t want to step inside, feeling very out of place all of a sudden. But then Baz laughed softly, touched my hand with his and led me up the garden. I would follow him like that anywhere.

A year later and I’ve still hardly seen Baz’s dad. I met him and Baz’s mother briefly the first day that I came here. Baz’s father only said hello, but his mother seemed genuinely interested in me. She sometimes brings us snacks or checks on us during our time together. Sometimes I see his father around the house when Baz and I are up to something; he will just glance over at us and go back to whatever he is doing.

Baz doesn’t talk about it, so I won’t push my luck.

“There you are!” A figure appears at the end of the bed, crouched and poking his head into my vision. A grin forms on my lips.

“Took you long enough,” I say, trying to shuffle out from where I am. A hand reaches out and I reach back for it, being pulled carefully out and onto my feet.

I collapse onto the top of the bed, facing the ceiling and looking at my own reflection staring back at me. I always found it strange that Baz had a mirror on his ceiling, and he never understood why it was put there either. Baz falls beside me, his body hitting the mattress. He parrots my position and looks up at the ceiling too. This. Like this, I can see him freely. Through the reflection on his bedroom ceiling.

“Basilton!” A voice calls from outside the door, and then that door is bursting open. Natasha, Baz’s mother, stands there. Dark, shadowed beauty runs through the family. She sees me and her expression changes, “Simon! I didn’t know you were here. Are you staying tonight?”

“If that’s okay,” I say shyly.

“As long as your mother knows,” she responds, and I nod immediately. Ebb was worried the first time I slept over at Baz’s. The motherly instinct to protect me warms my heart. It’s a feeling I’m not used to. I hope I will become accustomed with it. “Dinner will be at seven.”

She leaves without another word. I see the similarities between her and Baz clear as day. They both have a lot to say but don’t say much at all, but it’s more than that. I see Baz when I look at Natasha. They have a similar facial structure, the same shadowed grey eyes, the same dark hair.

I turn to Baz now and he’s got this small, knowing smile on his face. “Have you done your homework for maths?” He asks.

“Why would you bring that up? Of course not.”

I’m frowning, but not for long, because his smile is infectious.

“I’m not doing it for you,” he says definitively.

I’m upset for a moment, until I realise the amount of times Baz has refused to help me and eventually came around. I sigh through my nose and turn to face the ceiling again, staring up at the reflection of Baz’s side profile.

I’m content with everything right here. I could stay in this moment forever.

But I can’t. And things won’t always be like this.

-

**Simon / Year 6 / Primary School**

It’s been a year, and I’m no longer the newest student at our primary school. I’m slouched in the back of our class with Baz sat straighter beside me (this year we got to pick our seats and I was ecstatic that I would finally be able to sit beside Baz every day). And there, stood at the front of the class with a blonde plait sat on her shoulder and golden eyes dashing nervously around the room, is the new girl.

“Kids,” our strict teacher snaps, gaining every last bit of attention from the class. Her gaze is wicked and being caught messing about by her is the stuff of nightmares. “This is Agatha Wellbelove. She will be joining our class this year.”

Agatha Wellbelove smiles delightfully in the general direction of the class, seeming to be too nervous to hold eye contact with anyone. She is exceptionally pretty.

“Please make her feel welcome. Agatha, you can take a seat next to Georgia over there,” our teacher gestures to the only spare seat in the class, which happens to be at the table directly in front of me and Baz. “If everyone could return to the sheet in front of you. This needs to be completed by lunch time.”

Agatha rushes over to the seat, taking a pencil and beginning to work on the maths sheet. I see Georgia greeting the new girl with a polite smile.

When I look back at Baz, he is already looking at me with narrowed grey eyes and a knowing expression. “What?” I say.

He shakes his head, “Nothing, Snow.” He puts his head down and continues with the math problems, so that’s the end of the conversation.

I glance at the back of Agatha’s head every once in a while for the remaining fifteen minutes of the lesson. I hardly realise I’m doing it.

-

I see her across the playground speaking with a group of girls from my year, including Georgia. She’s speaking occasionally, laughing in all the right places but still nervously glancing around her surroundings.

“Snow,” Baz says, bursting me out of my trance. I snap my head to face him and he’s giving me the same look he was earlier.

We’re supposed to be playing a game. One of our friends Alex is supposed to be finding us. I’m supposed to be enjoying it. I usually am.

I drop my head against the wall we’re hiding behind and sneak another glance over to her. “I’m going to go to the toilet,” I tell Baz. He nods his head slowly, so I slip away from behind the wall and begin walking towards one of the buildings. This building happens to be right next to where Agatha is standing.

I don’t make it to the building. I stop just in front of the group of girls. They’re giggling loudly and even more so when they notice me stood there.

“What are you doing, Simon?” Georgia asks, hands on her hips.

“I just – uh,” I struggle, locking eyes with Agatha’s gold ones. “I just wanted to introduce myself to you,” I say, stepping towards Agatha Wellbelove and offering her a small smile. Her cheeks turn pink. “I’m Simon Snow.”

The girls behind her are still giggling, which is slightly off-putting.

“Hi, Simon,” she says, playing with her blonde plait nervously. “I’m Agatha.”

I’m smiling more now. As I open my mouth to respond, a familiar voice says, “Toilet, huh?” My eyes widen and I turn to find Baz stood behind me with an unreadable expression on his face. The giggling girls have gone silent at his presence. They’re frozen, watching him.

“Sorry, Baz. I got distracted,” I say absent-mindedly. I don’t miss Baz flicking his eyebrows up. His eyes land on Agatha.

“You must be the new girl,” Baz says, stepping closer. “I’m Baz.”

“Hello, Baz,” Agatha responds. Her cheeks are redder than they were when I introduced myself.

“It looks like you’re going to fit in with everyone,” Baz says in a charming voice. I feel fire warming in my belly. “So I guess we’ll be seeing you around.” Baz turns to me but his gaze is not as kind and caring as it usually is. “Come on, Snow. We’ve started a new game.”

I walk away from the group of girls beside Baz. Suddenly, having a new girl like Agatha at our school might just be the worst thing to happen.

-

**Simon / Year 7 / Secondary School**

It’s been a year and now I’m at secondary school. It’s been a month here and I already hate it. I want to go back to the comfort of my primary school immediately.

People here aren’t nice. The boys call me names and laugh at me and the girls make me feel uncomfortable and act strange around me. And Baz is . . . nowhere to be seen, most of the time.

He’s sat in the row in front of me but on the left side of the classroom during this history class. When he turns to speak to his partner, his demeanour is carefree and nonchalant. He doesn’t have to try like I do. Everybody already likes him; he is already on top.

I feel my chest clench when the class ends and he stands up. I’m packing away my things casually but internally I’m on edge. Waiting. Wondering. Hoping. When I look up, Baz is on the other side of my desk waiting for me. I am filled with relief.

“Snow,” he says. His voice calms me. And then, “I’m going to go and sit with these other guys for lunch today. You don’t mind, do you?”

My stomach drops. I could cry. But then I’d be called a baby, so I hold myself together and look away from him, at a spot behind his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, cool, which boys?”

Baz knows me better than anyone. He should know I’m lying. He should realise I’m not okay with being left on my own and change his mind. Instead, he tightens his bag strap and says, “Dev and Niall and some others.”

“Oh, yeah, cool.” I’m not even trying that hard to lie. Baz must know. Or, he’s pretending he doesn’t notice my sadness.  
He nods and turns on his heel, walking out of the classroom without another word.

-

In the canteen, I sit at a table on my own and begin tucking into the lunch Ebb prepared for me. I keep my head down and avoid looking anywhere, taking a large bite into my sour cherry scone. I’m used to halving it and passing one of the halves over to Baz, who will smile gratefully every time. His half sits in my lunchbox staring back at me, like a reminder that things aren’t the same. Will they be the same again?

I hear loud, boisterous laughter from one side of the canteen and glance up instinctively, my eyes landing on Baz and his group of friends. One boy is sat on the table, laughing with his head tipped backwards and the others are joining in – Baz included. He looks like he belongs there, better than he’s ever belonged anywhere else.

On the table beside theirs, I notice a familiar pair of golden-brown eyes. Agatha Wellbelove. The new girl who is not so new anymore. She’s got such a large group of friends now, and all of the boys fancy her. I have no chance with her now. It was hard enough last year trying to win her over, keep her away from my best friend and simultaneously maintain my friendship with Baz. There is some part of me that is glad that is all over, but now my chances are even slimmer.

There’s a 1/1000 chance that Agatha would ever even glance my way.

Looking forward, I notice a girl walking in my direction. She has long, wavy, brown hair and similar coloured eyes and as she comes closer, I notice specks of blue in the ends of her hair. She sits in the seat in front of me as if it had her name on it, and smiles like everything in the world is perfect. “Hey, Simon. I noticed you sat on your own and wanted to come over and speak to you,” she says clearly and honestly.

I recognise her from a couple of my classes, which would explain how she knows my name. “Hey. I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”

“Penny. Or Penelope. Bunce.” Her glasses are a brightly coloured pastel blue. She glances around the canteen and wrinkles her nose, whispering, “Where’s your friend?”

I furrow my eyebrows, “Who?”

“Uh, the tall, dark one. Pitch?” I’m surprised. I’m usually the one labelled as ‘Baz’s weird friend’. Penelope knows me and doesn’t know him.

“That’s Baz,” I say, then nod over to the other side of the room, “and he’s over there.”

She looks over, taking a moment to find him in the large crowd. “Oh,” she looks back at me, grinning again. “Well, I’m here now. And we’re going to have more fun than you ever could with him.”

I smile despite myself, feeling a genuine warmth in my stomach.

She glances down at my lunchbox and then back to my eyes, “What’s that you’ve got there?”

I look down too, finding the sad half of my sour cherry scone.

“Oh, half a sour cherry scone. My mum makes them.”

“Are they good?” She asks curiously.

“Amazing.”

She cocks her head to the side slightly, “Then why have you left half?”

“It was just in case –” I cut myself off, shaking my head and pushing my lunchbox towards her. “Try it. They’re perfect.”

Penny shrugs her shoulders after a moment’s pause, picking it up and taking a bite. As her face changes into an expression of bliss, I sneak a glance across the canteen. Baz’s dark grey eyes stare back at me. Then they’re gone, so soon that I wonder if he was ever looking.

Penny takes another bite and says, “You better be bringing more of these tomorrow,” and I let out a real laugh, launching into another story about the sour cherry scones.

-

**Simon / Year 8 / Secondary School**

It’s been a year since I last spoke properly to Baz. At first, he tried to make time for me. Then we stopped hanging out and our conversations turned to occasional greetings around school. Then the greetings turned to nods and awkward smiles. Then those changed into glances in the hallway and gazes across the canteen. And then nothing. He stopped seeing me at all.

It hurt. And then it got easier.

Penny helped me pick up the pieces and move onto the next thing. I love being around her almost more than I’ve ever loved anything.

We’re in the canteen queue together and she’s telling me about an argument she had with her parents last night. Then a guy tries to shove past Penny, saying, “Out of my way!” and she stops, turning to him with anger burning in her eyes.

“Get back in your place, Dev. We’ve been waiting here for ages,” she says pretty reasonably.

“Shut it, Penelope,” he responds and something inside of me is triggered.

“Don’t speak to her like that,” I snap. His friends are stood behind him, and at the tone of my voice they all turn towards us. A pair of grey eyes stand out the most to me.

“Here we are,” Dev says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Penelope’s boyfriend to the rescue.”

“I’m not –” I begin and then stop.

“Just leave us alone,” Penny says at the same time.

“Aw, is Simon going to start crying?” Niall chimes in. “That’s what you said he did all the time, didn’t you, Baz?” Niall nudges Baz’s shoulder.

Baz purses his lips, letting a moment pass. His face is void of emotion. I would have no idea what he was thinking.

Then Baz says, “Yeah, all the time.” His friends chuckle.

I’m sure my face is a picture. Eyes wide, mouth open. I cried in front of Baz occasionally, but for acceptable reasons; because I’d been pushed over in the playground, because I’d been embarrassed by the teacher in front of the entire class, because my parents left me when I was a baby and it still hurts.

I feel a pain rising in my chest at the stormy, emotionless eyes staring back at me. Things weren’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be my friend forever. Now, he looks at me like he never knew me.

Penny pushes me forward in the queue, “Come on, Simon.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, Simon. Penelope will protect you,” one of the guys says. Several sniggers come from behind us.

Penny ignores him and so do I. We’re let into the food area by the teacher at the front of the queue, but she cuts off half of Baz’s group, only allowing a few of them through. Penny steers me over towards the baguettes and grabs one without much thought. I pick up a muffin cluelessly, just wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

In yet another queue to pay, Penelope mutters, “Please ignore them. You know they just say it to get a reaction.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I know, me too,” she sighs. “They are just awful.”

We get pushed forward with a rush of people. A voice from behind us says, “Sorry, Simon. I didn’t realise you were so sensitive about the whole Baz situation,” in a voice that couldn’t sound less apologetic. It’s Niall, grinning wickedly.

I don’t say anything. I’m debating just walking out without my muffin. I don’t even want it that much.

“It must’ve been so hard when he realised he didn’t want to be around you anymore,” Niall continues. “It makes sense though, don’t you think?”

I clench my fist in my pocket. I’m close to responding, when suddenly the till in front of Penny and I becomes free, and we’re finally paying. She urgently hands her coins over to the dinner lady and drags us out and through the canteen to our usual table. She only lets go of my hand when we reach it.

“Thank god,” she lets out a loud sigh of relief, smacking herself down against the seat in front of me. I sit slowly, not daring to look anywhere except for our table.

“That was bad,” I say. My heart is still drumming in my chest in fear. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Baz would never have been like that a year ago. Puberty turned that boy evil,” she rambles as she unwraps her baguette and takes a bite.

I hum, “I don’t understand it either.”

“I never liked him or his friends,” she says with a mouth full. “They are something else.”

I don’t respond. I want to stop talking about it now. And forget everything that just happened.

Penny seems to notice this and changes the subject – to something equally as bad.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” She asks, head manoeuvring around the canteen like a curious meerkat as if expecting to find her.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I grumble under my breath, putting my arms on the table and my chin against my arms.

“But you knew who I was talking about,” she says, taking big bites of her baguette in a way I’d never seen a girl before Penny do.

I mutter incoherently under my breath, then say louder, “She said she was going to stay behind in English to talk to her teacher.”

“Oh right,” Penny pushes her glasses up her nose and slowly, carefully asks, “So no luck there?”

“It’s hopeless,” I say, sitting up but leaning against my hand instead. My body feels drained. “She says she likes me but isn’t ready to be my girlfriend yet. Blah blah blah. I’ve liked this girl for years.”

Penny nods, taking in every word and yet, she has no response. I know she must have something to say. Sometimes Penny will keep quiet if she knows I’m not ready to hear something.

Not five minutes later, when Penny and I have moved on to talking about our weekend plans, the canteen door opens and both Penny and I whip our heads over. There, walking towards our table with her perfect hair styled into a perfect ponytail, is Agatha Wellbelove.

“There she is,” Penelope says, although she knows I’ve already spotted her.

When Agatha reaches our table, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and says, “Sorry, guys. I got caught up with Mrs Patrick.”

“That’s okay,” I say quickly, struck by her perfection.

Her cheeks are rosy. “I’m just going to go and grab some food,” she gestures to the food hall. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

I watch her leave for a moment too long. When I look back at Penny, she’s rolling her eyes.

“I can’t help it!” I say exasperatedly.

“Okay, Simon. This is why I’m worried . . .” Penny announces, nodding over to the direction Agatha just walked in.

She waves to her other group of friends – basically a massive girl group who won’t let just anyone hang out with them – and they all wave back. They never minded that she chooses to sit with us sometimes too. I think they must just be grateful for her company at all.

As she’s almost reached the food area, Baz’s dreaded group of friends stir, nudging Baz’s shoulder and prompting him to stand up in front of her. She halts, blushing bright red and responding to everything he says in length. He’s smirking, looking at Agatha in a way he hasn’t looked at me in so long. I miss it.

My chest aches. I turn back to Penelope in an attempt to ignore the pain. She’s still glancing between me and the scene unfolding.

“I’m sorry,” Penny says.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t want to upset you.”

“You haven’t,” I promise her, even flashing a small, forced smile.

“I just don’t trust her.”

I sigh, “she’s our friend, Penny.”

“Yes,” she nods her head. “I trust her as a friend. I don’t trust her to be your girlfriend. There’s something going on between her and Baz.”

This is the something she’s been trying not to say. She knew I wouldn’t want to hear it. And the worst part is that she was right.

Those words drive a dagger right into my chest, twisting reminders of the pain left by Baz Pitch last year.

-

**Simon / Year 9 / Secondary School**

It’s been a year, and Agatha Wellbelove is officially my girlfriend. The whole school knows. People look at me a bit differently now. They’re thinking: if Agatha can date me, then maybe I’m really not that bad.

It doesn’t matter much to me what others think. Penny is still my best friend. She’s by my side every day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. And Agatha Wellbelove is actually dating me. And, I’m still living with Ebb – in the house I finally get to comfortably call my home. Things aren’t all bad.

On this particular day, it’s windy and cold. Penny and I are strolling up the street to secondary school and her hair is blowing wildly in the wind. She’s dyed the tips of it purple to match her current snazzy glasses. The teachers keep asking to her to keep it a neutral colour and she keeps making up excuses to not do it.

She puts her hand on the top of her head and pushes her hair back down against the demands of the wind. She’s smiling despite her struggle. “I hate this weather,” she says, huffing exhaustedly. She slept at my house last night because she didn’t have the energy to try and get home. Ebb doesn’t mind and Penny’s parents are practically wrapped around her little finger, so there were no objections. When she wakes up, she always complains about how cold my room is due to the open windows and how she’s never sleeping there again. She always changes her mind eventually.

My curls are flowing everywhere in the weather. Penny screws them up even more with her hands and then laughs loudly. “Hey!” I say, though I don’t really mind.

“Are you doing PE this morning?” She asks. She knows my schedule off by heart, which is useful since I don’t at all.

“I haven’t had time to forge a note, so it looks like it,” I shrug carelessly. I hate PE. I was put in the top set with all of the aggressive and competitive boys in my year, who think losing a friendly match of football is the worst defeat in the world. I usually try to get out of it by faking an injury. Maybe today I’m feeling brave.

Then a competitive and challenging face with long dark hair and stormy eyes flashes through my mind and I realise: I am not brave at all.

“It’ll be fine,” Penny reassures me, although she doesn’t know how bad it can get. Sometimes I see her across the field playing hockey or netball with the other girls and she’ll send me a kind thumbs-up right before I get tackled into the ground.

“Have you heard from Agatha this morning? She hasn’t messaged me,” I check my phone again just to make sure. Penny isn’t answering so I look at her and she’s sighing heavily, rolling her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. I haven’t heard from her,” Penny says, sending me a false smile. I furrow my eyebrows but say nothing more. Penny is always occasionally acting off about Agatha, which leads me to wonder if they have some feud I don’t know about. I hope not. They are two of the most important people in my life.

We turn a corner and begin walking up the driveway of school. The direction of the wind has changed and is now hitting Penny’s hair differently. She has given up on holding it down. The bell has already rang so everyone is starting to scatter to their classrooms.

I’m about to say something to Penny about her wild hair, but when I glance at her she is frozen, staring towards the bike sheds. With a look of confusion, I follow her eye line, finding my girlfriend stood there talking alone with Basilton Pitch. I open and close my mouth like a goldfish.

“Oh no, Simon,” Penny says in her soft voice that she only uses in certain circumstances.

Baz is hardly speaking; he just has a calm, confident smirk across his lips and is occasionally nodding his head, getting a couple of words in there. Agatha, however, is talking his ear off. She is playing with her windswept hair, laughing loudly, maintaining eye contact with him. And touching his forearm.

“Penny, is this a nightmare?” I ask without peeling away from the scene in front of me. My old best friend and my girlfriend – flirting? I should’ve seen this coming really. The signs were there – I just refused to acknowledge them.

“Not quite,” Penny mutters back. “Do you want me to do something?”

“It’s okay. I’ll speak to her later,” I swallow, feeling a pain in the back of my throat. I’ve told Agatha what happened with Baz. Maybe I didn’t emphasise how bad it was enough, but I thought she knew.

Baz shrugs his shoulders in response to something she says and she pushes him lightly by his chest. I wrinkle my nose, tearing my eyes away from the two of them and rushing to PE class.

-

Baz comes running into the changing rooms late when only seven of us are left in there – me and six of his friends. I’m about to put the disgusting PE uniform top on when he slams the door open.

“Where have you been, lover boy?” One of his friends asks, making kissy noises towards him. Baz’s eyes glance over to me, and then immediately back to his friends.

“Nowhere,” he grunts, throwing his bag on the bench and beginning to get dressed.

“What do you think you’re gawking at?” One of them sneers at me, forcing me to look away from them all.

“Nothing,” I mutter, grabbing my trainers in my hands and leaving the changing rooms.

When I enter them again, my legs are covered in bruises and Baz has won the game yet again.

-

I’m the first person to arrive in my English class.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Simon. We’re switching partners so you might have to move,” the teacher tells me. I smile politely even though I’m internally groaning. I just wanted a nice lesson with Penny.

What I am given is a horrible lesson with Baz. We are seated together at the back. Baz gets out his pencil case and water bottle, not looking at me. His hair has grown out and is now long enough for him to put it in a small man bun, which he does sometimes.

“I’m giving out practice essay questions for you to plan together,” the teacher says, handing out A3 sheets of paper to each of the partners. Baz accepts the paper and starts writing on it without speaking to me.

I start to get annoyed then. Angry, even. Why isn’t he speaking to me? What have I possibly done wrong to deserve this? Why can’t I be included in planning a dumb English essay? I have skills too. I am equally as good as him. Maybe. Probably not.

“You’re about to explode, Snow,” Baz says suddenly, breaking the silence and causing me to freeze. I’m grinding my teeth together, clenching my fists. Letting out a long and subtle breath, I try to calm myself down.

“Why can’t I help with the question?” I ask, sounding more like a child than I intended to.

He angles the paper differently, allowing me to read it. I immediately regret saying anything. I know nothing about the texts we’ve been studying and nothing about this subject in general.

“Cat got your tongue?” He says this time. I glare at him and the stupid calm smirk on his features. That bloody smirk. He was giving that smirk to Agatha too.

“Why can’t you leave my girlfriend alone?” I say abruptly.

He doesn’t seem at all surprised by my random outburst. I wonder how it would feel to catch him off guard.

He scoffs instead, rolling his eyes and then looking back at me. “I’m not doing anything wrong, Snow.”

“You’re talking to my girlfriend – flirting with her, messing with her,” I say, although I sound weak. “Everyone’s always telling me what you’re like with her.”

“Everyone, huh? So just Bunce?”

I furrow my eyebrows, “No, actually. Not just Penny. Others too.”

“What do they say then? That I’m flirting and messing with your girlfriend?” He asks, looking sarcastically interested in what I have to say.

“Yeah, and other things. You’re getting her on her own and acting as if she’s not dating somebody already.”

“Snow,” Baz says, waiting until I make eye contact with him again. His eyes are dark. “It takes two to tango.”

“What are you saying?”

He runs a hand through his hair. I watch as he does it.

“God, you’re an idiot,” he says in frustration.

“Thanks, asshole.”

He sits straighter and his seat and angles himself so he’s facing me a bit more, “Do you honestly think that it’s all me?”

“What?”

“Snow, do you really think,” he raises his perfect eyebrows and looks at me deeply. I want him to look away, “that it is just me? That I’m pulling Wellbelove for chats and she’s unwillingly speaking to me, hanging out with me, flirting with me?”

I furrow my eyebrows, “But why,” frowning, I look at Baz’s hand resting on the table, “why would she do that?”

Baz shrugs and sits back in his chair coolly.

“You’re lying,” I say, although I’m not sure I believe myself. I don’t even sound like I believe myself, so I desperately add, “You’re making it up to get under my skin.”

He huffs but doesn’t try to argue, “Okay, Snow.” I think he would argue more if he was lying. That’s what he used to do, anyway.

“Why do you do it then?” I ask and he looks at me, waiting for me to elaborate. “Why do you flirt with her like she doesn’t have a boyfriend? Even if it does ‘take two to tango’, why do you play a part in it?”

He debates his answer for several seconds too long, pursing his lips and looking up at the ceiling until finally, he gives me a pointed look and says, “She’s hot. I can probably steal her from you. Might be fun.” He’s grinning like a storybook villain. I start seeing red.

I stand up abruptly, “What the fuck, Baz. Why would you –” I kick the bottom of his chair hard and it moves with him still sat in it. He gets onto his feet too, sizing me up. He’s bigger than me. Ever so slightly taller with bigger shoulders and bigger calves from all the football. But I’m stronger. He’s lanky but not very muscly. I think I have a fighting chance. If I have to.

I kick his chair again and this time it smacks into his knee. He kicks it back and it smashes against the table, making a loud noise, and it also collides with my shins. I’m about to retaliate when I hear a stern, cold voice from behind us.

“Basilton, Simon!” Our teacher shouts. “Headmaster’s office! Now!”

So that’s how Baz and I end up trudging all the way to the headmaster’s office, a large gap in between us as we walk. Baz nudges his shoulder into mine at one point and I respond by slamming one of the doors on him before he can get through.

When we’re sat waiting on two wooden chairs outside the dreaded office, Baz, with a quizzical expression across his face, asks, “How long are you going to be blinded by Wellbelove? She’s not as perfect as you think, Snow.”

“Shut up,” I tell him abruptly. Because I don’t want to hear his voice. But more than that, I don’t want to hear the truth. I’ve been hiding from it for a while and I’m not done yet.

I’m going to have to break up with Agatha. I know I’m going to have to now. It’s been on the horizon since the moment we met; it was never going to work. I’m going to have to end it.

But I don’t. Not for a while, at least.

-

**Simon / Year 10 / Secondary School**

It’s been a year, and Agatha and I are no longer together. It was a pretty easy break-up. Pretty mutual. That’s what I said anyway, when she thought she was breaking my heart in two. I said, “I understand, I’ve been thinking the same,” and she looked at me with a smile like she didn’t believe a word I was saying.

But I did mean it. I was just too afraid of breaking it off myself.

Penny was supposed to walk to school with me this morning, but she wanted to walk with Agatha to find out some gossip about these girls in her group, so I guess we’re not friends anymore. I’m running late anyway, sprinting up the driveway and turning the corner to get to biology.

I’m in Penny the traitor’s class, so hopefully I can find out the gossip too.

When I finally reach the classroom, things are eerily quiet, despite the fact that the teacher isn’t already in there. Usually biology is one of the loudest, most entertaining lessons I have. I spot Penny at our usual seat in the corner and wander over, passing several groups of people muttering quietly to each other.

“Hey traitor,” I grin when I reach her, tossing my bag on the floor. She barely looks at me, offering me a tight smile and then looking back at the table. “I’m only joking, Pen. Are you okay?”

She nods slowly, scratching the back of her head.

“Everyone’s being really quiet in here,” I say conversationally.

“Simon, haven’t you heard?” She asks in confusion, furrowing her eyebrows.

I frown, “Heard what? I only just got here.”

She stares at me for a while, and it’s so silent that I can hear almost every sound going on in that eery building. Finally, the penny drops. “Baz’s mum was killed last night.”

-

The rest of the school day is horrible. Everyone knows what has happened. They’re talking about it, whispering about it, passing the news on. Baz isn’t in, as expected. I don’t know what I’d do if I saw his face, knowing what I know.

I tell Ebb what has happened when I get home. She knew Natasha too. They weren’t best friends or anything, but they would chat. They got along well. Ebb puts her head in her hands and stops herself from crying by freezing for a moment. I’m biting the inside of my cheek, tapping one foot against the other and standing awkwardly in the middle of our kitchen.

“That poor boy,” Ebb whispers, letting out a sob. She inhales slowly, glancing worriedly at me, “Oh, Simon. Have you spoken to him?”

“No.”

“I think you should,” Ebb advises me, combing her fingers through my knotted curls. “If you think so too.”

-

I type out several different messages to Baz on Facebook, but none of them sound right. Too long, or too short, or too insensitive. In the end, I simply go for:

I’m so sorry, Baz. Here if you need me.

Clicking send is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, but it can’t be anything compared to how Baz must be feeling. That’s what I remind myself as I lay back on my bed with a pillow over my face.

I’m not laying there for long at all. A couple of minutes, maybe. Suddenly, I hear a message tone and my heart begins racing. I open up my phone, shocked to see a response from Baz, asking me to meet him at his house.

It’s dark outside. I’m wearing black joggers and an oversized grey jumper as I walk to Baz’s house. I know the way there like the back of my hand. Only years ago, we would go running back and forth to each other’s houses, desperately trying to spend more time together.

It’s only a ten-minute walk when I’m going fast enough. I arrive at Baz’s grand house, staring up at the large iron gates in front of me.

I can’t remember the last time I let myself look at his house. I’ve walked past it plenty of times in the past few years, but I don’t remember ever letting myself really stare, or really remember it all.

I push the firm gates open, and they make a pained sound as I do. I’m making my way up the pathway to his front door when I notice a figure sat on the mansion doorsteps. Baz, with his head hanging down and his legs crossed in front of him.

When I reach him, I don’t stop to think about the consequences of my actions. I just act, doing what I think is best in the moment. I sit down beside Baz on the doorstep with a small gap between us. He has to know I’m there, but he hasn’t moved yet. I think about pushing his long hair out of his face.

Instead, I wait. I let him take his time.

“Thank you for coming,” he says eventually. I don’t have time to hide the surprise on my features. I wrap my arms around my knees.

“I, um – it’s okay,” I stutter out. “You know I would have.”

He looks up, but not at me. Forward, at the impressive gardens on either side of the pathway. His eyes are a stony grey.

“So, you’ve heard?” He asks, his voice cracking slightly.

I pretend not to notice. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Baz responds slowly. I want to hold his hand, or embrace him.

“I’m still sorry,” I say calmly. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through.” I wish I had all the right words to say.

“It was a car accident,” Baz says. I’ve heard a few different versions being passed around school. “She was coming home from work on her bike. The car didn’t see her.”

I gulp, not knowing what to say, wondering whether to just apologise again, debating holding him.

“You should go,” Baz says suddenly, running a hand over his face. He looks drained. “It’s cold.”

It is cold. I’m only starting to notice now that I’ve stopped power waking. The chilly air is hitting me at all angles.

“I’m not leaving you,” I say. I’m surprised myself by my answer. It causes Baz to turn his head, looking at me for the first time since I got here. His eyes are gloomy and dark, his face a sickly white colour.

He looks at me like he sees something I don’t.

“I can’t go inside,” Baz admits. It’s the most heart-breaking thing I’ve ever seen. Baz Pitch, telling the truth, speaking his mind, grieving his mother. I’ve never seen him like this. I might be the only person who ever has. He is looking at me so sincerely, with so much pain in his eyes.

And I understand why. His house is made of his mother. Her designs, her paintings, her interior – her home. She made it. Everything will remind him of her. Of what he’s lost. That’s got to hurt.

“Come to my house,” I say softly. It’s a risk, but he nods his head.

We walk in a comfortable silence to my house.

When we arrive, Ebb pokes her head out of the living room and is visibly surprised to see Baz with me. She tears up at the sight of him, and kisses his head softly. He has a small, thankful smile on his lips. When Ebb disappears again, I lead Baz upstairs.

I lend him a pair of jogging bottoms. He’s glancing around my room with a newfound curiosity, finding everything is new. Nothing is as it was all those years ago, except for the colour and another couple of things. Baz picks up something small in his hand that was sitting on the top of my bookshelf. I only see it when he rolls it around in his hand; a small, glass frog – that Baz bought me, about five years ago. He’s smiling slightly, placing it back carefully and turning to me.

I go to the bathroom quickly. When I get back, Baz is lying in my bed – where he used to sleep when we were younger. I’m seeing young Baz and current Baz both smiling up at me from my bed. This Baz is sadder, more tired and more in need of comfort than ever before.

I switch off the lights and find my way to him in the dark. We lie side by side, in the quiet comfort that we have always had. I’m getting tired, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the sound of his breathing.

“Thank you,” Baz whispers. A secret between the two of us. He reaches for my hand blindly, and I find his under the covers. Our hands fit together. He squeezes mine, and I squeeze back. Our entwined hands rest on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths.

I’m close to falling asleep, and I think he is too, so I sit up slightly on my elbow, looking down at his face. I can make out his dark hair against my pillow and his fluttering grey eyes. His mouth is slightly parted.

His head shifts over to me and I’m frozen. He rolls over and sits up slowly, too. Our hands are still entwined, gripping at each other. His head is coming closer to mine and I’m pulled forward, like a magnet. He is so close I can feel his breaths against my lips. I take a leap, placing my forehead against his own.

And then, finally, a kiss. A slight press of lips together, in the dark, where nobody will ever see. Nobody will ever know but us. Our secret. We pull apart after several seconds, and gaze at each other. I press my lips to his again, just barely, just a soft, reassuring kiss. And then I kiss his cheek, lingering on the skin there.

We lay side by side, hands still clenched together. Hearts in line with one another. I fall asleep when I finally hear his staggered, sleepy breaths.

When I wake up the following morning, he is gone.

-

**Simon / Year 11 / Trixie’s House**

It’s been a year, and I’m at a party, deciding whether to leave. Agatha, who I haven’t had a proper conversation with for years now, is chasing after Baz. Baz, who I haven’t spoken properly to since last year in my bedroom, is walking around like he owns the place. Penny, who is my supposed best friend, is trying to get the attention of some ‘cute boy’ in her maths class.

I’ve never felt more like going home.

“Simon!” Someone calls, and it’s Trixie, her arms wrapped around a shorter girl with pastel pink hair. “Are you having fun?” She asks me. She’s holding a prosecco bottle in her other hand, waving it around like a flag.

“Of course,” I smile politely. I’ve had my fair share of alcohol to make up for how alone I am at this party. I’m hoping if I walk around enough, nobody will notice that I’ve been ditched.

Trixie grins wildly, tipping some of her prosecco into my plastic cup and then waltzing off in another direction. Looking out into the party, I notice long blonde hair whipping wildly around on the dance floor. Agatha, and opposite her – Baz, rocking side to side slightly in time to the music. He looks like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and in the midst of the rushing party around me, I allow myself to really look at him.

He’s holding a plastic cup in one hand and occasionally raising it in the air at certain points of the song, his lips perfectly forming the words as him and his friends belt out the lyrics. He has a soft smile across his lips. Not a smirk, but a comfortable smile. I miss everything about being with Baz, but mostly I miss that small, private smile he used to give me. It was mine – just for me. I miss meaning that much to him.

He pushes his hair back by running a hand through it and turns his head to look around the party. I take that moment to slip away, shoving my way past people I recognise from school and into the back garden. It’s just me and two teenagers smoking on the patio. I inhale a breath of cold hair, letting myself relax now that I know there are no prying eyes on me.

I think I’ll probably leave soon. I’ll stay out here for a couple of minutes, trudge back inside to get another drink and walk around as if I’m looking for someone for a bit. Then, I’ll text Penny to let her know something has come up and I’ve got to go home. That’s the plan.

It’s for the best if I don’t speak to Agatha. We’ve gotten into a simple rhythm around school of ignoring each other or smiling politely if we’re forced to be near one another. It could be worse (it could be like me and Baz, which is way worse).

The back-door swings open and I glance over to find that I’ve been left completely on my own in the garden. The two smokers have disappeared. I walk down the steps of the patio and onto the grass, stumbling around the garden as if I’m looking for something. I’m just wasting time at this point.

The back-door opens again and my head snaps up immediately, making immediate eye contact with Baz from the small distance between us. He closes the door behind him and slips his hands inside his pockets, slowly wandering towards me.

He looks around dubiously, as if he’s expecting somebody to suddenly jump out from the shadows. He purses his lips, “You’re not with Bunce then?”

“Clearly not,” I answer, folding my arms over my chest. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel small, so I straighten my shoulders and refuse to appear weak.

“I saw her with Michael from my physics class,” he says conversationally.

“Shouldn’t you be with Agatha?” I snap, challenging him. He lets out a short laugh.

“Why would I be?”

“I don’t know,” I visibly shrug. “Maybe because you’re always following her around with your tongue hanging out.”

“I think you’re getting us confused,” Baz says coolly, completely unaffected by my outburst. “But you should know that, with all the staring you do.”

“I don’t stare,” I argue back, getting annoyed. “I hear all sorts about you and Agatha.”

“Why does it matter, huh? Are you jealous?” There’s a glint behind his wicked eyes.

“No,” I say quickly.

“Yeah, you sound completely cool about it.” He checks the time on his phone and then glances back at me, pushing his hair back.

I gulp, asking, “Why are you out here?”

“I just needed some air,” Baz answers quickly. He gazes back at the house. “And to get away from . . . people.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “From who?”

He brushes my question off, looking down at the grass and avoiding eye contact with me.

“Did you just come out here to annoy me?”

A soft chuckle is released, “Yes, of course, Snow. I live to annoy you.”

I tilt my head to the side in confusion. A silence settles between us, and it’s so tense that I almost wish he would say something arrogant just to fill it. I want to ask him about last year. It’s been on the tip of my tongue since the night he spent at my house; the sickening, intense desire to know why everything happened as it did. Why did we fall asleep holding hands? Why did he kiss me? Why wasn’t he there when I woke up?

I take a risk, my voice softening before I say, “Are you okay?”

He knows what I’m talking about. He has to, because the colour in his face is suddenly drained, and he looks off to the right – he doesn’t look anywhere near me. “Yeah,” is all he says. I pause, waiting to see if he might say anything more. “I’m better.” He glances at me uncertainly. His cold grey eyes are darker. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

I’m surprised, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I quietly admit, “I, um – I didn’t know what to do. You weren’t there when I woke up and –” His face is unreadable. I practically whisper, “I didn’t know what it meant.”

He clenches his teeth and debates his response for several long seconds. I’m vulnerable, and my thoughts are on show for him in a way that they haven’t been since we were children.

Just as he goes to open his mouth to respond, the back door begins to open from afar. Both of our heads snap up and over to it, noticing an ocean of blonde hair appearing from around the door. Agatha Wellbelove. I look to Baz, wondering if he’s going to go and join her, and consequently leave me here wondering what his response would’ve been.

To my surprise, Baz grabs me firmly by my arm and begins dragging me in the direction of the garden shed.

“Wha –” I begin, but I’m immediately silenced by Baz’s loud hush. He tugs me around the back of the shed and I allow myself to be pulled along.

Baz suddenly stops when we’re directly behind it and I’m so surprised by his sudden halt that I stumble on a rock and end up chest-to-chest with him. He still smells like cedar and bergamot. I let out a sigh, heart stuttering in my chest and stand up straight again.

“So you’re avoiding Agatha?” I mumble, running my hand down my arm where Baz was originally holding me.

He lets out a short sigh himself and mutters, “Yes.”

“Why? I thought you liked her.”

He rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer. Looking through a gap between the shed and some bushes, Baz must find that Agatha has gone back inside by the relieved expression on his face.

“I don’t get it,” I carry on and he gives me a frustrated expression.

“Then don’t.”

He seems annoyed, but I am too. This whole situation is annoying me. I hate never knowing what’s really going on, so I keep pressing: “I thought that you finally had what you wanted. Agatha, single and wrapped around your finger.” He’s staring at me, his gaze burning. I can’t seem to stop myself. “All these years, chasing her. Why aren’t you with her?”

His teeth are grinding together. I can tell by the harsh tense of his jaw. If we were cartoon characters, I’m positive there would be fire and steam exploding from his ears.

I shrug my shoulders, exasperated, letting out a final, angered and exhausted question, “Why are you here with me?”

Finally, the penny drops. Baz practically growls, “Don’t you get it by now?” He crumples up my shirt in his fist, pulls me forward and kisses me.

I am so surprised that at first, I freeze completely. I’m trapped in my thoughts thinking about the feeling of his hands on my chest and the warmth of his lips on mine. It takes me several seconds to realise I should be kissing back, and that I want to be kissing back – and so I do.

I place my hands on his hips and press my lips back against his, feeling a wave of confidence begin to navigate my actions. I’m overwhelmed by a desire for more. I open my lips around his and he gasps in surprise, allowing me to slip my tongue experimentally into his mouth. I’m inexperienced and nervous, but I think he is too. I at least know something from being with Agatha.

But this is different. Baz’s lips are rougher and he’s taller than me, so I reach up to his hair and softly pull him down closer to me. His arms begin to curl around my neck. He begins to respond to me roughly, kissing me harder and I can’t –

My phone begins to go off. I’m almost tempted to ignore it until Baz pulls back himself, his face a picture. I embarrassingly try to follow after him, wanting more. His eyes are wide and a darker grey than I’ve ever seen them before. My mouth is hanging open, heart thumping in my ears at the thought of what we’ve just done.

I stumble for my phone, nearly throwing it on the floor as I press loudspeaker.

“Simon?” Penny practically shouts. Baz is still wide-eyed, his face resembling utter shock. “Where are you?”

“Where are you?” I deflect the question, hardly wanting to tell her that I’m hidden behind a garden shed having just kissed Basilton Pitch. “I was looking for you.”

“Sorry, Si. I was talking to Michael but I’m done with that now.” I hear some noise going on from her side of the phone and then she says, “Should I meet you in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, uh, that’s fine.”

There’s some more noise for behind the phone. Baz is looking at the floor, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. The desire to hold his hand is almost enough to make me do it. Almost.

“Oh god,” Penny says after ten seconds. “I just walked past Agatha and she asked if I’ve seen Baz. How embarrassing. Why is she looking for that awful guy anyway?”

I gulp and risk a glance at Baz again. He’s leaning against the shed now with a small smirk on his face. There’s something behind the cocky smirk that I’ve never picked up on before. What is that? Sadness?

“I’ve got to go,” I say to Penny and quickly hang up. The tension in the air is thick. My eyes drift from Baz’s emotionless, darkened eyes to his soft hair, which I was holding just moments ago. It’s going to hurt to leave. I know he won’t allow things to be like this again.

“I should go,” Baz says suddenly and firmly. Part of me is glad that he said it, so that I don’t have to. The other part of me feels the constant ache in my chest, and knows that this is not how things should be. I’m clenching my fists without realising. It hits me differently when he says it.

I barely get a chance to mutter a small ‘bye’ before he’s disappearing around the shed.

-

**Simon / Year 12 / Milkshake Shack**

It’s been a year, and I’m still hanging on. I’m in sixth form with Penny, and it’s possibly the happiest I’ve been. Much better than the ruthlessness of secondary school. And I have a job at the milkshake shop (well, it’s more of a café) downtown, and I kind of love it.

I say ‘possibly’, because not everything can be perfect. I haven’t spoken to Baz since the party last year; frankly, it’s been awful. There’s been the odd awkward and intense glance, and then nothing for such a long period of time. He’ll keep his head down when I’m around, avoid looking at me, and walk out of a room if it’s just the two of us. I don’t know how he does it. I’m constantly thinking about him in the back of my mind, and I’ve always been drawn to him like a magnet. It’s my biggest weakness. And yet, he can bear to stay away from me.

I can’t.

At prom, he spared me one of his long glances. From across the dance floor, with the DJ’s awful music playing in my ears, I caught his eye. He was wearing a green suit that night, the colour bringing out the grey of his eyes. I’d wanted to tell him how beautiful he looked. Maybe I would get my chance.

And then, a figure walked into my eyeline; it was Agatha, her blonde hair swirling around her face in ringlets. She stood right up close to me, grinning. When I looked back at Baz, he was gone. Agatha had asked me to dance with her. I couldn’t say no. Agatha had been such an important part of my secondary school experience, and if I didn’t get to say goodbye to it all properly, I think I would regret it.

I’m glad I did dance with her too, because it left us on good terms. Good enough terms that we started developing into good friends during sixth form, and the awkwardness from our daft attempt at dating disappeared.

Anyway, I’m at work now. I work just Tuesdays after school and all-day Sunday. Penny is sat on a stool at the counter, sipping at her second strawberry milkshake and doing her maths homework.

“This is awful,” she says now. “He hasn’t even taught us this yet, and just expects us to know it.”

I’m opening the dishwasher and placing the mugs and glasses back in their original homes. “Thought you were the top of your class,” I say pointedly, knowing it will get a reaction out of her.

“Joint first, which just isn’t as good,” she huffs. “And anyway, we should’ve been taught this. I can’t be good at something I’ve never seen before.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t take any science-y or maths-y subjects for a-levels.”

“Uh,” she sips at her milkshake, which has nearly reached the bottom of the glass. “Psychology? Technically considered a science.”

“Whatever,” I huff, walking away from her to serve a lady smiling at me from in front of the till. As I’m taking her order, I notice a pack of boys come in through the door, the bell at the top ringing as they do.

The lady walks away and I start making her coffee. Penny has clocked the group as well, eyeing them from over her shoulder in the least subtle way I’ve ever seen.

“You should be a spy,” I say sarcastically, and she narrows her eyes at me.

“You noticed them too, then.” She pushes her empty milkshake glass away. “Is it unacceptable for me to get another milkshake?”

“I did,” the coffee machine is loud, so I have to raise my voice slightly to be heard. “Of course it’s not unacceptable. Want me to make another?”

“Hmm,” Penny genuinely debates it, tapping her pen against her chin. She shakes her head, “Actually, I’ll take a coffee. Is that alright?”

“Coming right up.”

She goes back to her homework and I carry on with the two coffees, also sliding a slice of coffee cake onto a plate for the lady. I take them over on a tray to her. When I’m back, there’s a boy waiting at the till to be served.

“Shouldn’t Micah be back from his break by now?” Penny asks curiously, and I give her a look that I know she understands.

I go over to the till to take the order from the boy. He gives me a small, awkward smile as I approach him, “Oh hey, Simon.” It’s Martin from my psychology class, who also happens to be one of Baz’s friends. Baz, who also happens to be sat across the café pretending I don’t exist.

I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Baz comes in here pretty often, but always with people. And he never comes to order if I’m working – somebody else will always do it for him. I wonder how he has accomplished that so many times without his friends getting suspicious about why he won’t just get his own drinks.

It is a painful feeling. To see him across the room from me, but so far out of reach. I suppose I should be used to it by now.

“Hey,” I smile, taking his order of four milkshakes and two coffees. He walks away after paying.

I can’t stop the discreet glance I take at the six boys sat there. Dev. Niall. Martin. Kieran. Baz. And a boy I don’t recognise.

I turn to Penny and grin, “I know why you’re wondering where Micah is.”

She blushes a deep red, pretending she hasn’t heard me and continuing to scribble on her maths homework. I laugh loudly, pouring two chocolate milkshakes and two strawberry. The coffee machine is loud enough that it almost drowns out my laughter.

As if on cue, Micah pops around the counter, back from his break. He’s got crumbs on his trousers from whatever he’s been eating. He must notice me looking, because he quickly brushes them off and grins.

He does a double take when he sees Penny and subtly moves towards her, “Still struggling with that maths homework?”

She nods enthusiastically. I practically snort. She shoots me a glare before telling him, “He hasn’t taught us any of it.”

“God, that’s so annoying,” Micah responds, leaning his elbows on the counter.

“I’m taking these drinks over to a table,” I tell them, but both ignore me. Sighing, I take the tray of six drinks over to the table.

As I’m approaching, the boy that I don’t know (who’s in deep conversation with Baz) looks in my direction with a thoughtful expression on his face. Baz follows his eyeline and ends up maintaining eye contact with me. I’m concerned about tripping over something, so I break it off, placing their drinks on the table and quickly rushing away.

Safely hidden back behind the counter, I hear Penny exclaim, “If I’m honest, I’m not feeling the new uniform.”

Both Micah and I look at our yellow polo shirts at the same time, frowning. They are ugly. “I don’t know why we couldn’t just wear black, like before,” I say.

Micah wanders over to the coffee machine and asks, “Oh, Simon, who’s this coffee for?”

“Oh, shit. That one’s Penny’s.”

Micah picks it up, ready to take it over to her. Unfortunately, luck is not on his side. There is a tiny puddle on the ground during his journey, and he slips, falling forwards and smashing the coffee mug onto the ground.

“Micah, are you okay?” I ask and he nods, smiling.

“I’ll make you another one, Pen.” He gives her an apologetic look. “Simon, could you get something to mop the coffee up with? I’m going to clear up the glass.”

There are no paper towels in the vicinity. I blame that on Micah, too, because he said he would sort that before he went on his break. I make the hasty decision to just grab some from the boy’s toilets.

The door to the bathroom slams against the wall when I push it. It’s so loud that it alerts the two boys in the bathroom to snap their heads towards me, eyes wide and panicked. Two boys, one leaning against the sinks and the other pressed up against him. One with wide brown eyes and one with piercing grey ones. One Baz, kissing the boy that I’ve never seen before, against the sinks of the boy’s bathroom.

“Oh – I’m, I’m so sorry!” My head is banging, mind spinning, chest aching. I’m afraid that if I say anything more, I’m going to cry.

I run back out of the bathroom, chest heaving as I slip back around the counter.

I can hear a voice somewhere distant, asking me a question, saying my name. I can’t respond. All I can see, all I can hear, is Baz. Baz with . . . another boy. Why does it hurt this much? When has hurting ever been so painful?

The voice finally reaches me. “Simon, are you okay? Paper towels?” It’s Penny, leaning across the counter and holding my shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll go and get them.”

She slips away. Micah is still leant on the ground, but he’s looking up at me with furrowed eyebrows. Softly, he asks me, “Are you okay mate?”

I nod, and he doesn’t push any further.

I will be. Now that I’ve figured out the problem, I can find a solution. It’s only just dawned upon me, but it’s been there all along. All these years. This faint agony in my heart, reminding me of the problem.

I watch Baz emerge from the bathroom, completely composed. He doesn’t look at me. He must know I’m never going to repeat what I saw.

Then again, maybe he doesn't know. Maybe he doesn't trust me. Because not two months later, Baz comes out to our sixth form, and there is no longer any secret between us.

-

**Simon / Year 13 / Hotel Été**

It’s been another year, without Baz. But things are so, so different.

For starters, my friendship with Agatha is going very well. In fact, me and her and Penelope are somewhat a trio now. I’m very glad to have her back in my life.

Penelope and Micah are dating now. They’re going strong. Even the universities that they’re going to are only an hour apart, so they’ll be able to freely visit each other.

And, well, there are other developments in my life.

I’m turning up to our end of sixth form prom with Agatha and Penny, driving in an old vintage car. The three of us are sat in the back, Agatha’s blonde hair like a flag in the wind. Penny’s got her curls up in a pretty hairstyle. We’re arriving in style. Agatha’s wearing a tight, long red dress with matching heels, Penny wearing a purple jumpsuit that matches the streaks in her hair and the colour of her glasses. I’ve got a pair of checked blue suit trousers on and a white shirt tucked in. Agatha spent a great deal of time adjusting my curls into a place that she was content with, but the wind has most certainly ruined it.

We’re not long away from the hotel it’s happening at when Penny asks, “Who are you going to dance with tonight, Agatha?”

Agatha shrugs, not having a care in the world. “Everyone,” she grins. Then she eyes me with a smirk, “We know who Simon is going to be dancing with.”

I blush, “That’s not going to happen and we know it.”

“Never say never,” Penny grins. Then she sighs, “God, I wish Baz would just grow up and stop ignoring you.”

“It’s been years.”

Agatha squeezes my forearm, causing me to look at her, “All that work on your hair has gone to waste.”

“Sorry, Aggie,” I say and she brushes it off, sitting back properly in her seat.

“What’s Micah wearing tonight, Penny?”

Penny beams, sitting forward, “He said something about a waistcoat. Or suspenders.”

“You’ll be the best dressed couple,” I say, nudging her. The driver turns a corner, and the hotel looms upon us, people crowding outside dressed in fancy outfits.

After a burst of photos, an awkward number of grins and poses, we’re finally shuffling into the hotel. I’m climbing the steps, linking arms with Agatha, Micah (wearing purple suspenders!) and Penny just ahead of us, when I finally see Baz. I do a double take, caught off guard.

He’s wearing a floral suit, patterns of pinks and purple flowers lining the black material. His frame is lean, and he looks so effortlessly attractive. His long dark hair is half up in a bun, with the other half of it hanging freely. He notices me too, his jawline clenching and eyes narrowing. He is the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on.

His stormy eyes flicker from my own eyes, to my outfit, and then to my arm – linked with Agatha’s. He purses his lip, ripping his gaze away.

We arrive in a large, open hall, large white tables dotted around. There’s a bar in one corner, a DJ in the other, and a large dancing space. Personally, I’m eyeing the long table of nibbles. Penny leads us to a table in the corner, draping her bag onto one chair and then collapsing onto the other one.

“Why do girls wear heels?” She complains and Agatha laughs in agreement.

“You look so beautiful,” Micah tells Penny, taking the seat next to her. They start muttering quietly to each other, so Agatha turns to me with a roll of her eyes.

“Did you see Baz?” She asks. I nod, the image of him climbing the stairs flashing in my mind like a painful reminder of what I can’t have. Agatha smirks, “You’re so far gone.”

I nod, “I am. So far.” Even as I speak, I’m looking for Baz. I find him talking with a couple of his friends, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Shall we get a drink and then have a little dance?” Agatha asks me, taking my hand affectionately. I’m thankful for her friendship more than she knows.

“That sounds brilliant.”

-

Hours of dancing, drinking and eating pass by me in the blink of an eye. I don’t care to admit how much time I’ve spent by the buffet.

We’ve reached the last few songs of the night. It’s evident that the night is drawing to a close by the carelessness that everyone has inherited. There are people slumped on chairs, against walls or dancing tiredly, using a partner to hold them up. I’m sat back in our original seats that we chose at the beginning of the night, watching my friends.

Penny and Micah are dancing, using the remainder of their energy to let rip the most powerful dance moves I’ve seen all night. Agatha is dancing with Martin, one of Baz’s friends. She’s holding him by the neck and leaning tiredly against his chest. I’d think she was asleep if it wasn’t for her slow movements. Her heels have been abandoned somewhere.

The song shifts into something slower. More people join the dance floor, holding somebody close. I debate heading outside for this part, to save featuring in the background of any photos, looking lonely and sad.

I stand up slowly, stretching and wondering what’s the fastest way out of here.

A figure appears next to me and I’m startled, until I see Baz looking towards the dancefloor in curiosity, standing close. The pace of my heartbeat startles too.

I take a moment to admire his side profile, even if I know he can tell I’m staring. His hair is still perfectly pulled out of his face, but still with half of it resting above his shoulders. His jawline is sharp, his lips curved, his eyes settled on a spot in the room.

He breaks the silence, asking, “Are you feeling threatened?”

I widen my eyes, wondering if he’s asking if he’s making me feel threatened. In which case, I’d say threatened is the wrong word. Mesmerised, captivated, in love would probably be better suited.

“Hmm?” I say instead.

He nods over towards the dance floor, at my friends. Penny and Agatha, both slow dancing with their partners. “Agatha,” Baz says, as if the answer is obvious. After a beat, he adds, “Dancing with another guy.”

“Oh,” I glance over at my friend. Agatha’s eyes are still closed as she dances. She comes alive suddenly, twirling around in a circle and then falling back onto his chest. “No,” I let out a little laugh. “It’s really not like that.”

He’s looking at me, waiting to see if I’ll say any more on the subject. His gaze is intense, and I feel like I’m shrinking underneath it.

“She’s one of my closest friends,” I conclude. “Just that.”

He nods his head slowly, as if he’s processing the information and configuring the most fitting response. When he doesn’t respond, I begin to feel nervous. I’m tapping one foot against the ground, rubbing my hands together and debating what the worst possible outcome would be of me asking him to dance.

Of course, he could just say no. In which case, I would be embarrassed. But this is my last chance. My last chance to do something about this. Am I really willing to let that pass by without taking this one risk?

“Baz,” I say. He looks at me with raised eyebrows. I wonder if he can hear my pounding heart too. “Can I dance with you? Please.”

His expression doesn’t change, but I notice the movement of his Adam’s apple when he gulps. I put everything into the look I give him. Every piece of hope I have left. All the words I cannot say. Can’t I just have this one thing?

His lips curve into a small smile, and he reaches out for my hand. I practically fall forward with enthusiasm, letting myself be dragged onto the dancefloor. We’re surrounded by other couples, including Penny and Agatha, who both give me the most bewildered and hopeful grins I’ve ever seen them give.

I’m nervous, and I wonder if Baz can tell. He pulls me towards him by my hand and then lets go of it to wrap his arms around my neck. He’s only slightly taller than me, and the height difference seems to work. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to explode. In a good way.

I place my hands around Baz’s waist. I can’t believe I’m dancing with somebody so beautiful. Some hairs are hanging loosely around his face, and I push them back softly, tucking them behind his ears. He watches me with a curious stare.

When he begins to sway to the side, slowly in time to the music, I follow.

“Um,” I hold his hips delicately. “I wanted to apologise.”

“About what, Snow?”

“Last year, walking in on you and –” I don’t need to finish the sentence. I can tell he already understands by the slight colour in his cheeks. “I was terrified that you came out after that only because you were worried I would say something otherwise.”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He reassures me. “I wanted to come out. It seemed like the right time. I was thinking about it before you saw that anyway.”

I nod in understanding, “Well, for the record, I think it was incredibly brave.”

He practically beams, “Thank you.”

The words are tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them: “I need to say something.” Baz tilts his head to the side, as if telling me to go on. “Um, because this is my – it’s, well, it’s my last chance.”

The music playing all around the room is nothing compared to the sheer hammering of my heartbeat.

“I, um – well, really –” Baz’s hand slides delicately across my neck and to my cheek. His thumb strokes across my skin, leaving shivers. His touch is cold, and yet I’m still on fire. The affectionate gesture causes my eyes to snap up to his.

“Use your words, Simon,” he says softly. The sound of my name on his lips would be enough to make me crumble if he wasn’t holding me. I can’t remember the last time I heard him say my first name. Even as children, it was always ‘Snow’. I never minded. I was happy to be called anything by him. But right now, stood in a crowd full of my classmates, holding the boy that I have been in love with all along, there is something so intimate about the sound of that name.

So, I do as he says.

“Because it’s our last chance, and because it’s all I’ve really wanted to do,” I let the words fall freely from my lips. “I wanted to ask you to go on a date. With me.”

Baz’s unbreakable expression actually falls, and his eyes widen slightly, enough for me to notice. He lets out a sigh and leans in closer to me, “Simon,” my head is ringing. “If everything goes well with exams, I’m going to study in Paris.”

My stomach drops. “Oh.”

He steps closer, pressing our chests together and placing his forehead on mine. His eyes are closed but I can feel his breath on my lips as he whispers, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I wrap my arms tighter around his waist and pull him impossibly closer, as if terrified that he will run for the hills. “Yes.”

Another sigh leaves his lips. He lets out a choked, “I can’t, Simon.” I’ve never seen Baz crumble before. He threads his fingers through the hair at the back of my head. “It will kill me. I can’t do it.”

He doesn’t need to say anything more. I can feel it too. The temptation to try to make something so long distance work, even as fresh as it would be. The desperation to try. But we all know how it would end – how much it would hurt.

So instead, when the DJ announces we’ve reached the final song, I draw Baz towards me and rest my head against his shoulder, leaning sideways to press a soft, innocent kiss to his neck. I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat against his chest. I turn my head to the other side, finding Penny and Micah watching with loving smiles on their faces. Penny curves her fingers and thumb to create the shape of half a heart, showing it to me. Micah does the same with his own hand, and joins it with Penny’s. I send them a grin, then lean back to look at Baz.

He pushes my hair back with one hand, brushing his thumb across my lips and watching my mouth as he does it. The sudden need to kiss him is intense.

The song ends. People begin to pick up their things and leave, wishing their friends a goodnight. I’m still staring into Baz’s stormy eyes, almost completely unaware of my surroundings – until my three closest friends are appearing beside us.

“Martin and that lot are all going out-out. They said it’d be cool if we joined,” Agatha exclaims. I peel my eyes away from Baz but still leave one arm wrapped around his waist.

“Sounds good to me,” Penny says, and Micah silently agrees. “Simon?”

I glance at Baz, seeing the expression clearly on his face: he doesn’t want to go out.

“Um, I’m not sure. Baz?”

He wrinkles up his nose, “I think I’m going to head home.”

“I’m going to make sure Baz gets home okay.”

“Okay, Simon. We’ll see you later.”

My friends are hugging me, muttering rather suggestive and embarrassing innuendos into my ear about me and Baz. I have to practically usher them out of the door, ignoring their wolf-whistles and kissy sounds when I return to Baz’s side.

“Sorry about them,” I say sheepishly. Baz just grins in a way that I don’t remember ever seeing before. There is nothing better than his smile.

Baz calls us a taxi and we wait in the hallway, talking nonsense and holding each other as freely and openly as I’ve always wanted. I’m holding his waist one second, then playing with his hair, then wrapping my arms around his neck.

In the taxi, I hold Baz’s hand from across the back seats for the entire journey. His hand feels like a perfect fit in mine, and Baz’s beam at my refusal to let go is enough to make anyone melt.

I pay for the taxi and get out with Baz at his mansion. We wander up the long driveway, swinging our hands in between us. It’s only when we reach the door that I realise this is it. It’s time to let go. And say goodbye.

“This is – weird,” Baz says, as if he’s lost for words. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” I admit.

“Simon . . .” Baz frowns, reaching forward to cup my cheek.

“Can I kiss you, Baz?”

The corner of his lips quirks up and he leans in close to my mouth, “Yes.”

I press my lips softly to his, taking my time to savour every moment with him. He moves both hands to the back of my neck and grabs a fistful of my hair. I pull him closer to me by his belt loops, holding his hips in my grip. I make a sound against his lips and he slips his tongue into my mouth, kissing me with everything he has.

I pull back slightly, just enough to rest my forehead against his, as we had when we were dancing. I lean in and press my lips against his for several seconds, my cheeks heating up at the intimacy. He strokes his thumb against my ear comfortingly.

“Is this where I have to say goodbye?” I whisper to him, hoping he missed the crack in my voice.

Baz lets out a breathy laugh, giving me another short and delicate kiss. “I think so,” he says.

“I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.”

I let out a sigh. Baz’s eyes look beautiful in this darkness. He fits in perfectly with the night. How could I ever think I was anything but in love with him?

“Goodbye Baz,” I let the words tumble from my lips and although they hurt, it’s nothing compared to the feeling when he responds to me:

“Goodbye, Simon Snow.”

He’s letting go of me, letting his hands drop to his sides, and he’s floating towards his front door. He’s opening it, and I’m walking the other way, away from him, and down his driveway.

I look back, and his front door has almost closed completely.

I should walk away, arrive home, get into my bed and think about this night for a very, very long time.

Instead, with a sudden impulsiveness, I’m running back up his driveway, back to the front door, and I’m pushing it open. He’s stood there, shock registering on his face, and I’m saying the words before they’ve even processed in my mind.

“Spend the summer with me. Just this one summer. To make up for every year we have missed together. Please.”

His confusion begins, slowly, to transform into a small smile against his lips.

And even though I will pray and pray throughout the summer that the circumstances might change, I can foresee the future already: come the end of the holiday, Baz will pack up his things, and leave for Paris.


End file.
